Timeless
by MissDementia
Summary: Time is essential. Especially now.


Timeless

 _Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Song is 'If You Love Me (Really Love Me) by Edith Piaf._

The delicious music of the occasional splash of water fills her ears; the slapping waves gently lap at her skin in a delicate manner. She always finds comfort in the sound, a comfort that always brings her heart at ease. Even now with fate slicing down the only valuable thing in her life, she cannot help but feel the hand of comfort that soothes her such as her mom did so long ago. The water is serving as a blanket, a protective barrier that shields her from the outside world. It hides her and keeps her safe. In here she cannot hear the penetrating sounds of chaos and riot. In here it is simply her and the _swoosh_ of the waves.

The flames of the candles that surround her dance at every shudder of breath she lets out. She wishes to stay here, stay within the cloudy waters of simplicity. She can exist here.

Just as she is preparing to dunk her head within the frigid water once more, a loud shrill bleeds into the silence of the bathroom. It is a giant slap to the atmosphere. Penny frowns as the alarm screams at her. It reminds her of the time. With a deep sigh and a great heaviness of grief, she raises her body from the water and immediately feels the impact of the cold air disrupt her body's former temperature. She smiles as she notices the flame of a candle die from her breath. She pushes past the open door and walks into her bedroom. Her naked feet slaps the floor and leaves murky puddles behind.

The alarm is still screaming and as she approaches her bed, she snatches the offending cellular device and silences it. She then glances at the battery icon at the upper right hand corner of the screen. _Thirteen percent_.

It will be enough.

She towel dries herself, speeding up the process more than what she is accustomed to. She is not a fan of rushing and yet it seems ironic to her how life has always made it its goal to force her to continuously move forward, to quicken her thoughts and actions. However, no matter how much the waitress (former?) would love to cherish these seconds, she has to move fast. Time is essential. Especially now.

She dons a simple black dress, her trusty companion throughout the years. It is of a simple design and yet the clothing knows the correct way to hold her, hug her and land her companionship for the night. She decides to wear it tonight. It is an obvious choice.

Fully dressed, Penny looks down at her feet and frowns at the clear toe nails. She wants to paint them but she knows that she will not have time. Oh well. She clips on a pair of simple black heels and combs her hair in the speed of ten seconds. Ten seconds that she will never get back. Oh well indeed.

As she glances at her reflection, she gazes at the dark circles adorning her eyes. She tilts her head curiously and momentarily does not recognize herself. Where is the girl that was striving to be the next big thing in Hollywood? Where is the girl who could hogtie a pig in thirty-two seconds and still manage to look good? Where is the girl that did not fear great things in life and that always looked to the bright side despite herself not being too bright? Where is she? Well if she is not gone yet, she will be in a matter of time. _Time_. _Time_. _Time_.

Penny decides to take a deep breath. Just one single breath to comfort her quickening heartbeat.

One second.

She quickly glides out of her room and out of her apartment. There is no long, tearful, or heartfelt good-bye. There is no time for that.

She does not know what she expects to find across the hall, within the room where so many laughs and playful banters have taken place. Where relationships have been made or destroyed, friendships broken or amended. She simply knows that _he_ is there and that is all that matters. Her hand stills for just a millisecond (too long), but quickly turns and allows herself inside.

The first thing that hits her as she opens the door is the overwhelming cacophony of scents. Lavender, vanilla, apple, cinnamon, are among those that she recognizes, however she knows that there must be a wide variation of scents. Out of pure reflex, her nose scrunches up. But her feet do not waver. They manage to get her through the barrier of scents. She notes that there are candles in every crevice of the room. Every corner, every edge, holds a cylinder of illumination. It is as if all the tiny torches, with their bright eye-like flames flickering in the darkness, are in awe of the man who scribbles furiously on the walls. As her eyes focus, Penny is able to see the hundreds of equations on the walls. Every portrait, shelf, poster has been moved away and now only lines and lines of numbers, letters and symbols glare at her. Her heart clenches as she realizes what he is trying to do. Though she does not comprehend the mathematics, she sees through his soul crystal clear.

He is trying to fit what should take years of knowledge and research, into seconds.

Penny walks over to him, like a mother to her starving child, and almost trips on a textbook. She notices the barricade of encyclopedias, reference books and pages scattered about. She merely steps on them and continues her journey to him.

Now within range, she hears his light voice muttering nonsense. She is right behind him and she notes the various crinkles on his usually carefully-ironed shirt. His pants are also disheveled and he reeks of bad hygiene and malnutrition. All she wants to do is hold him, feed him, care for him. But once again she realizes that it is too late.

Carefully, she raises her hand to him. She deliberately takes her time here for she does not wish to stop him from his life's work. She knows that this is what he has wanted to finish all these years. It is not a matter of recognition now. It is a matter of finding closure for yourself. For knowing that you did not waste time on something that you lived and breathed for. Something that you dreamed of and fought for, regardless of what others said. She is a dreamer just like him, after all. She understands. However, she knows that the dream is almost over.

With a heavy heart, she places her hand over his and stills it. Her chest presses against his back and she has to fight the urge not to lean her head onto him. She notices his tension, his frozen posture immediately but this lasts for only a moment. His body slowly sags and he is reduced to a poor child, a poor old man. She gives him a moment to allow the disappointment to hit him. She feels as the optimism leaves his body, as the last shred of hope escapes his pores and bleeds out into the heavily scented room. She makes sure to step away from the optimism, to let it die in the air. It is for the best.

She feels him breathe and for a moment she feels connected to him. Her body feels in sync with his and she can feel every synapse in his brain reacting to the situation. She feels slightly overwhelmed by the sea of knowledge that lingers there, the memories that she encounters in his memory palace. She sees so many doors open and yet many more closed. For a moment, she feels her body transported into this wonderful place, his mind. Here she is dressed in an ivory gown. She is every bit of a princess she always dreamed to be. Her hair is golden, curved elegantly. He is there too, in a sophisticated white tuxedo, his hair slicked back. He holds her pallid gloved hand and guides her. She wonders at the plentitude of sculptures and portraits with him. They laugh at the painted comedy and shed a tear or two for the more sorrowful pieces (among these a mirror). The marble floors carry the delicious click of her heels and for a moment she knows that this is heaven. This is peace. But just as the moment begins, so does it end. She sees the disappointment in his eyes as she pulls from his hand. She is back in his apartment.

He brings his hand down, slowly and Penny does not know how long he keeps his head bowed. She merely waits for him. She knows he will rouse in time.

Finally he lifts himself and decides to turn and face her. When he does, she is startled by his horrid appearance. The shadows on his face disfigure his innocence and beauty. Scraggly facial hair insults his baby cheeks and she forces herself not to touch the mop that was his head. Through the rough exterior, she still sees the man that she loves. Loved.

 _Five percent._

Penny looks up at him, her Sheldon. She knows that it's time to depart. To say goodbye. But she also knows that neither one of them are very good at them. Saying goodbye. So she knows that there is only this one chance, this one moment. She had wasted so much time, so many opportunities. She should have cherished the memories they shared or perhaps done everything in her power to let him know how her body trembled in the night for him.

She had always hated rushing things.

* * *

She gives him a warm smile, reminding him of the time he first saw her in her apartment, getting acquainted. It seemed so long ago now.

They stare into each other's eyes for a few moments, relishing on the color of each other's soul. Her warm emerald. His cold sapphire.

She takes hold of his arms, and places them upon her, a strange embrace. He is unfamiliar with this and yet though his arms awkwardly ensnare her, he knows that this is perfect. He would be lying if he said he did not enjoy this. Just like good byes, he was never good at lying.

He feels her heartbeat palpitating quickly, frantically, as if trying to pump out as much blood as it can in these final moments. He notices that his heart also races. As the seconds go on, his mind realizes that their time is approaching. He wants to tell her something, before it's all over. His mouth opens and he tries to get out the words that he has been wanting to tell her for so long. Wants to tell her how much he enjoys holding her, how much he enjoys her scent caressing his nostrils, how much he enjoys the feel of the small gooseflesh that have suddenly appeared on the surface of her arms. How much he enjoys…her.

Just as his mouth begins to operate and a syllable tries to escape, she leaves him. He feels himself deflate slowly, the sting of the cold air without her leaves him shivering like a newborn babe. His eyes turn towards her, desperation swimming in his irises. His arms are still outstretched, reaching for her to make her way back to him. He needs her now more than ever. Without her, it would truly be over.

She smiles sadly at him and shows him her cell phone. He is confused, just as he always is when she is (was?) around him. He sees her fiddling with the device and finally sets it down on the floor. Music begins to fill the apartment.

 _Shall I catch a shooting star?_

 _Shall I bring it where you are?_

Silently, she makes her way towards him. She grabs his arms once more and places them where they were previously, where they belonged. She slides his arms lower, places them on her lower back. He lets her do what she pleases. Throughout the time that they had known each other, it was always she that followed his commands. She did what he wanted just to make him comfortable (happy?).

And yet, she also always challenged him. If not for her strong will, he doubts he would have ever done half of the things he did near the final moments of his life. He doubts he would have ever fallen for her.

 _If you want me to, I will…_

 _You can set me any task, I'll do anything you ask_

He feels them sway softly to the rhythm, hardly moving at all and yet it is perfect. Had the end not been mere seconds away, he knows that it would be this moment that he would remember for the rest of his life. The feel of her chest pressed up against his, their hearts beating in synch, their eyes holding nothing but…

 _If you'll only, love me still…_

Time. Among one of the definitions on Webster's Dictionary was an appointed, fixed, or customary moment or hour for something to happen, begin, or end. End indeed.

He had failed to finish his life's work. Everything that he had fought for, striven for was all for naught. There would be no one to remember him, no one to praise his achievements. He feels like he should be angry, feels like he should destroy anything and everything in sight like a tormented child who is torn away from his favorite toy. And yet, there is nothing. No red bleeds into his vision, no hitch of the breath to indicate his sympathetic system is activating. Nothing. Simply the smell of fresh green apple to soothe his soul.

 _If the sun should tumble from the sky…_

 _If the sea should suddenly run dry…_

 _If it seems that everything is lost…_

So close now. So many people in the world saying good-bye. So many people in the world praying, yelling, crying. Some scientists -a few that he knows- trying to come up with a final solution, refusing to let go of that final fragment of hope.

 _If you love me, really love me…_

He feels like he is trapped in a different time, a different dimension. There is no frantic energy in this small world where only he and Penny are. Where only they exist. There is no looting, killing, raping, destruction. Simply the small movement of two bodies. It is for this moment for which he thanks his mother's God.

 _Let it happen, darling…_

He feels again like he should say something to her, give her something to take into the next life that she believes in. A confirmation of his feelings, a reassurance of his sentiment. Alas, there is nothing. And by the way her head leans onto his chest, by the way that her chest vibrates as she hums along with the tune, nothing is necessary. Simply she and he. Man and woman flowing gently to the rhythm of so long ago.

 _I won't care…_

The music stops.

* * *

 _As the asteroid R137B approaches Earth, we're left only with moments to enjoy the company of our loved ones. I want to thank everybody for their support throughout these years. Thank you to my family and to my friends, fans and those here in the studio that decided to stick with me in these final moments. This is Mark O'Brian bringing you the end of the world. Goodnight everybody and Go_ _d bless…_


End file.
